The Alchemy

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

I recently created an Instagram account where I'll post updates and more contents about my stories you can follow it if you wanna stay updated @ImaginationH_ ; Also I have a Taylor Swift fan account @tswizzle_tv13 if you wanna support

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TW: Violence, Cursing

Taylor's POV:

The man standing above me has wild, red eyes. It's all I can focus on right now, as pain radiates from my cheek. He looks furious, but there's something else in his gaze; despise, hatred, disgust. How could he hate me? I don't even know him.

"You bitch, you think you're better than me, huh? You think you could outsmart me?" he yells. I'm too scared to answer or even move.

"Answer, slut!"

"I'm sorry," I stutter behind the tape on my mouth, staring at the floor.

He's about to hit me again when someone enters the room.

"Dylan, don't break her neck yet. We need her alive for the ransom."

He nods. Without warning, he grabs my hair and drags me to the other side of the room. I try to fight, but he's too strong.

He tightens the ropes around my wrists, causing them to dig painfully into my skin.

I cry silently, too terrified to be noticed.

They both sit at the table in the center of the room, talking over breakfast. They're discussing their plan. They've left a ransom note in my apartment for Will to find. They're asking for $100,000. I have that money, but Will doesn't—and he doesn't have access to my bank account. Only Tree does, and Will's been told not to inform anyone I'm missing. How will he find the money?

I overhear them say it would be better to kill me after they get the ransom. The man didn't even mention the ransom; he just wants to kill me. He's terrifying. When I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing but evil. I don't know why; he doesn't even know me.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. After breakfast, Dylan leaves, and I'm left alone with the other man. He doesn't speak to me or even acknowledge my presence. Somehow, I'm relieved he doesn't.

I'm starving by the time the day ends. I haven't eaten or drunk anything, but they don't seem to care. And I'm too scared to ask.

Will's POV:

As I walk into the living room, I notice Taylor's gym bag on the floor. The door wasn't locked, which is strange because she always locks it. The cats didn't come to greet me, but I can hear them in a room down the hall. Taylor never locks them in a room—it's odd.

Something's wrong. I can feel it.

I walk to the dining table and see a folded note. I open it and immediately recognize the handwriting. Dylan, what are you doing here?

As I read the letter, my heart races:

We took the bitch. You shouldn't have abandoned me for her. If you ever want to see her again, bring $100,000 tomorrow at 7:30 p.m. on Great Hill in Central Park. Don't call the cops, or she's dead.

Your loving brother.

How could he? Where is she? Did they hurt her? Is she okay? Where am I going to find $100,000? So many questions race through my mind. I want to panic, but I stay calm—I owe that much to Taylor.

Dylan's POV:

I'm walking down the path alone; Tommy stayed with the bitch. I took some pills and smoked a little before coming.

Will hates it when I take drugs, but he doesn't have to know.

He's already waiting near a tree with a big-ass bag. Must be the money. He doesn't look happy, though. I don't get it—we're rich now.

"Where is she?" is the first thing he says. Why does he always have to talk about her? We don't care about her.

"Come on, bro, what's up? Do you have the money?" I smile at him.

He doesn't smile back. Instead, he grabs my collar and shoves me against a tree.

"Listen to me—she better be okay if you want to live," he threatens.

But I laugh. Louder and louder. I think it freaks him out because he lets go.

"Come on, bro, why do you care about her? We're rich now. We can do that cruise we talked about when we were kids. We can go anywhere, do anything. Isn't that awesome?"

"It's worse than I thought. You really think I'm going with you? You've lost your mind. Where is she, Dylan?"

I can see it—he only cares about that bitch. Just like our parents, he's going to abandon me. The thought makes me so angry. I want to take my knife and put it to his throat, but he's always been stronger than me.

"Too bad for you. We could have had the life we always dreamed of as kids. But you're going to lose it all for her. Tommy's with her now. Just give me the money."

"I want proof that she's okay," he says, his voice hard.

"She's not dead yet. Now give me the money!" I yell, pulling out my knife.

I completely lose it, shouting at him. But then I feel something slam me to the ground.

Will is on top of me, punching me in the face. I try to stab him, but he's got a hand clamped on my wrist, pinning it down.

I hear people shouting around us.

"Where's the girl?" someone demands.

"We need to trace his phone, maybe we'll find out where she is," another voice says, while Will continues to punch me.

"Call the precinct. Let them know we've got one of the kidnappers, but the other's still out there with Miss Swift," someone orders.